A Deadly Shade of Pink
by Vrinda81
Summary: A beautiful girl is found dead in her apartment, and the case has Five-O in a dilemma - the evidence points to a very prominent member of the Honolulu community - but takes a deadly turn when more bodies turn up. It's up to McGarrett and his team to crack yet another seemingly unsolvable case.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **I**

Jazz music emanated from the record player, filling the room with its upbeat ambiance as the girl in the green dressing gown went about her nightly beauty regimen. She had just washed off the last bit of the face mask that had been hardening on her face for the past fifteen minutes, and then sat down to brush out the ebony tufts of hair that covered her head and fell about her oval face. The music shifted from the cheerful beat of a saxophone to the subdued tinkling of piano keys as she combed out the last knot and applied a dime-sized amount of styling cream to her silky mane. She rose from the vanity, applying some moisturizer to her face with her fingertips, then went into the living room.

The sun had set over Honolulu, and all she could see now were the lights from the apartments in neighboring buildings and the red, blue, yellow, and pink lights down below from the downtown area, signaling that the city's nightlife was about to come alive. She drew the blinds and went to the couch. The doorbell rang before she could sit down.

She was annoyed, not expecting visitors at this hour. Her slippers made little noise as she traipsed on the thick carpet to the front door. She was not the least startled by the face that greeted her, but she was not pleased to see it.

"Oh, you," said. "All right … come in. Don't make a scene." She closed the door and led her visitor into the living room. "I'd offer you a drink, but I know you're not staying long.…" She strutted further away, then turned around. Her smug tone gave way to fear in seconds. She stared wide-eyed at the other person, her bottom jaw dropping open in horror.

"No, no! Put that away!" she creamed, thrusting her hand forward with her palm facing the visitor. "What are you doing? … Stop!" She turned and ran into the bedroom.

There wasn't even time to slam the door and lock it. A second set of feet chased her inside, and the next sound to be heard was the girl's scream – a blood-curdling shrill – and then silence. A few minutes later, the water turned on in the bathroom, ran for a few minutes, then was turned off. The visitor shuffled out of the bedroom to the front door, stealthily opening it, slowly stopping in the doorway to see if anyone else was about, then walked out and closed door shut behind them.

In the bedroom, the girl lay on the bed, dead. The green dressing gown was now brown, soaked in her blood which gushed from several stab wounds. As the last few minutes of her life ebbed away, her blood continued to run down the white comforter in rivulets. In the living room, the jazz record continued to play.

 **II**

Police officers walked about the apartment, gathering what evidence, questioning the neighbors, the landlord; and making sure none of the neighbors or reporters got into the apartment and compromised the crime scene. The flash from the crime scene photographer's camera illuminated each inch of the apartment as it was being captured on film. He quickly ran out of the way as Officer Danny Williams and his boss, Steve McGarrett, chief of Hawaii Five-O, entered the living room.

"The deceased's name is Barbara Heiland, age twenty-seven. She worked as a secretary for the Pogue Manufacturing Company in Pearl City. She was also a part-time model for the May Company store on Bishop Street," Danny, or Danno, as Steve and the other detectives affectionately called him, read aloud from a small notebook. "Single, lived alone, family on the Big Island."

"You got all that so fast?" Steve asked Danno, astounded.

"The landlord was a lot of help." Danno pointed to a gray-haired man of medium height who was in the middle of describing his late night activities to a uniform officer who was trying hard to hide his boredom.

"Then the late night movie came on, and I made myself some cocoa, which I do every night, then I went back and sat in front of the TV. I drank the cocoa and fell asleep and didn't wake up until the movie was nearly over. My wife had already gone to bed. We didn't hear or see anything, not till this morning. One of the girls in the other apartment – Sheila – works with Barbara and they carpool together. She went to her place to get her and she opened the front door … it wasn't locked. She went in and … you know the rest."

Sheila, Danno told his boss, was Sheila Vansaun, Barbara Heiland's friend and co-worker who lived in the same building, but on a different floor. She was in a neighbor's apartment, being questioned by HPD. Steve and his partner went into the bedroom. Barbara lay stretched out the on the bed. Her left side facing the door and her head tilted towards the right. Her eyes were closed, as though she was still in a deep sleep. Her arms were outstretched, and her legs dangled off the edge of the bed from the knees down. Her raven hair was strewn about both sides of her head, and there was blood over her face, neck, arms, chest, and stomach, and all around her on the bedsheets, some of which having trickled to off the comforter and onto the ground. She was wearing what appeared to be a filmy nightgown, the original color of which was obliterated by the blood. Her left hand was clenched, and Che Fong, the forensic scientist, tried carefully to pry her fingers loose and find out what those fingers held.

He was successful. It was a button – an ordinary, round pink button with a bit of matching pink thread still clinging to one of its holes. Che motioned for the photographer to come around and take a picture of the button in her palm. After the flash went off, Che retrieved the button and put it into an evidence bag.

"It may lead to something," Che said to Steve, holding the bag for the top cop to see. Steve eyed it curiously.

"Let me know the minute you find out," Steve said. "It may narrow the suspect pool considerably." The pink button was not the standard flat, nearly transparent baby pink used in men's dress shirts, but an opaque dark pink with a concave center and the edges rounded out, like a thick crust on a pizza. Steve's hobby of painting and collecting paintings enabled him to discern and describe colors that specifically. Such a style and color would not be used in men's clothing.

Sheila Vansaun sat in the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Kimura, next door neighbors of Barbara Heiland. After she found the body, she ran to their apartment. They were the ones who called HPD. Duke dotted his last i and crossed his last t, then nodded to Steve and Danno as they entered. She sat on the edge of the couch, wrapping her arms around her stomach, leaning forward as though she was trying to keep warm. She wore a powder blue sheath that ended a few inches above her knees and was sleeveless. Her arms showed that she spent much time in the sun.

"Miss Vansaun, Steve McGarrett and Danny Williams of Five-O." Duke introduced her to the two detectives. "This is Sheila Vansaun, Barbara's friend and co-worker."

"Thanks, Duke," Steve said as Duke made his exit. Sheila slowly turned her head to look at the detectives, but they were met with vacant eyes. Sheila was the opposite of Barbara Heiland in certain aspects. She was in her mid twenties, a blonde the shade of cornsilk, her hair piled high on her head and held together by an abundance of hair spray and bobby pins. Her eyelids were covered in a grayish blue cream eye shadow and her lashlines were outlined with thick black eyeliner. False lashes covered in layers of mascara cloaked her eyelashes. Her face was covered in translucent liquid makeup and powder, with a dusting of an earthy-colored blush at her temples and upper cheekbones. A pale pink lipstick coated her lips. It was a well put-together look, symbolic of the current trend in makeup but, to Steve, it was overkill.

Her jewelry were stainless steel, teardrop-shaped earrings with a lone blue stone in the center, necklace made of matching stones that wrapped around her throat, a matching bracelet on her right wrist, and the diamond engagement ring set in a silver band. It was to Danno's dismay but to Steve's delight. He had a bad feeling about Sheila, and it was just as well that she was another man's problem and would not become his second-in-command's.

"Miss Vansaun," Steve began, "I know you gave your statement to Sgt. Lukela, but can you please explain to us what happened when you found Barbara?"

Sheila looked afraid, and he didn't blame her. It's unnerving to find a dead body, especially that of your friend, but the fear Sheila showed was different, Steve sensed. She was on edge, afraid of someone – someone whose name they did not know and could not see. The girl's face had the outwardly appearance of a poker player's – emotionless and straight – but there was fear in her eyes and in her voice. Steve knew it would take them longer to crack her surface.

"We take the bus together. We usually leave here at eight-thirty. I came to get her … I … I knocked on her door …" Sheila slowly turned her head and looked at the carpet. "It wasn't locked. I thought it was strange."

"Did you knock or call out to her?" asked Steve.

Sheila nodded. "I did. I knocked and called out to her – after I rang the bell. There was still no answer. I rattled the knob and saw it was open. I opened the door, but I didn't go in. …"

"Did you see anything?" asked Danno.

Sheila still didn't look at the men, but this time at the wall. "No, there was no one around … It was so quiet … I called out to Barbara again, and she didn't answer … I walked into the living room. I didn't think anything had happened. I know I shouldn't have. It wasn't like her to not be there. We had to go to work. I went into the kitchen first. She wasn't there. I noticed the bedroom door was open, and I went in …" The fear came back into her eyes, intensified. "The blood was everywhere. I didn't think it was her. It couldn't be her!"

"What did you do next?" Steve asked.

"I ran out of there. I came here and told them to call the police." She clutched at the hem of her skirt.

"How long have you lived here?" Steve asked.

"Two years, since I started working with Barbara," she answered.

"Did she ever mention if someone was bothering her – an ex-boyfriend or a co-worker, maybe?" Steve asked.

Sheila shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Barbara wasn't dating anyone that I know of and she got along with everyone she worked with."

"Was Barbara expecting anyone that night?" Danno asked.

"She didn't say," Sheila answered. "I was out that evening, with my fiancé."

"What's his name?" Steve asked.

"Richard Schulman," she replied. Duke would have gotten the same information, including his contact information, but they asked her for it again, just to be sure.

"1126 Grant Avenue, Apartment 2B," she answered. Her composure was returning, and Steve continued with the questioning.

"Where did you and Richard go last night?" Steve asked.

"We were at the Skylight Room, inside the Outrigger," she answered. The Skylight Room was a nightclub inside the Pacific Outrigger Hotel on Kalakaua Avenue. It wouldn't be too hard to check if they were there.

Another uniform came into the room and whispered to Steve. "Be right back," he told his assistant. Steve left Danno to continue questioning Sheila while the uniform led him back into Barbara's apartment.

"We found something," Chin Ho Kelly, one of Steve's most trusted aids, told him. Chin held up a ring. It was inside a plastic evidence bag. "It's got the initials MAB on the inside and there's more."

Det. Ken Nishimura of the HPD came forward, holding an open photo album. "There's a picture of the victim, with Judge Brandin."

Steve examined the photo, which looked like it was taken at a cocktail party. There was Barbara Heiland with her arm around Judge Robert Brandin, whose wife, Steve remembered, was named Margaret Annaliese. Though had never seen the gold band before, seeing Barbara next to Judge Brandin in that picture and knowing whose initials those might be made him make the connection."Margaret Annaliese Brandin," he said aloud.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **I**

Margaret Brandin was a lawyer who specialized in business and contract law. She started out as a paralegal to pay her law school bills. She got a job at a firm where she was at the bottom of the list of partners, then worked her way up considerably. Along the way, she married Robert Brandin, who was then a lawyer with an established criminal law firm. He then went to work for the DA's office, then was elected all the way to District Judge for Oahu County. In the meantime, Margaret took time off to raise their two daughters, who were now in college and high school, respectively, and became a happy homemaker, renown for hosting the most elaborate dinner and holiday parties, of which Steve, Danno, the other members of Five-O, Governor Jameson, and DA John Manicote were frequent guests. She had recently returned to her law practice, starting her own firm and recruiting some of the best talent in business and contract law, but never lost her flair for being an expert homemaker.

The Brandins lived in a modern house in the Diamond Head neighborhood of Honolulu. They were on their back porch when Steve and Danno came to pay them a visit. Judge Brandin was seated at a patio table with a large yellow parasol jutting out from the center. A matching yellow vase stood at the base of the parasol, with an array of white and red hibiscus, yellow plumeria, and white pikake. Margaret placed a giant pitcher of lemonade the same color as the vase, parasol, and one half of the hibiscus on the table and poured some into three tall glasses. She handed two to Steve and Danno and the third to her husband.

"What brings you all here?" Margaret asked. She genuinely looked oblivious and Steve hoped she was not putting on an act. Judge Brandin also seemed unconcerned. Maybe they had not yet read the morning newspaper.

"A girl was murdered in her home last night," Steve spoke gravely. "Her name was Barbara Heiland. Do either of you know her?" The name didn't cause any recognition on Margaret's part, but Judge Brandin nearly choked on his lemonade. Steve glared at him. Brandin managed to swallow the lemonade, then coughed into a napkin.

"Is everything all right?" Steve asked.

"Yes, _cough_ , yes, it is!" Brandin said. "I just didn't expect to hear such a thing out of the blue."

Steve wasn't buying it, but he didn't dare call the judge out on it. He needed to speak to Brandin alone. His wife's presence would make him make clam up further. They only had time for the direct approach.

"Margaret," Steve said, turning to her, "I need to speak to Bob alone. Can you excuse us?"

Margaret looked confused and suspicious, and Steve didn't blame her, but she did as she was told. When she had disappeared into the house, Steve shifted his attention back to Brandin. He pushed the photo across the transparent tabletop towards him, still it rested right in front, under Brandin's incredulous stare.

Barbara was not the bloody and battered mess that Steve saw in her apartment that morning. In this picture, she wore her hair up like Sheila was doing today – hairpins, lacquer and all. Barbara wore pearl earrings and a floor-length aubergine dress. Judge Brandin stood to her left, beaming like a cat that swallowed a canary, holding a drink in his hand.

"I only saw her once – at that party," he replied. He took another big gulp of lemonade.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked. Danno kept silent. Steve knew the judge and how to break him. It was best to leave him to it.

"You wouldn't just pose with anyone in a photo," Steve prodded. "You look very happy to be with her. She wasn't just some stranger who happened to be standing next to you when a photographer snapped his camera."

"I … I … knew her," Brandin admitted. "It was only a friendship, nothing more. I met her when she doing a fashion show for some charity my wife was involved in."

"When was this?" Steve asked. "When did you first meet her?"

"When that photo was taken," Brandin answered, tugging at his collar with his index finger. Steve was getting to him, and that meant he had to probe further. "It was last year."

"Just how did this friendship start?"

"She was a pretty girl … naturally, she caught my eye … we just started talking …"

"She approached you or you approached her?" Danno asked.

"She approached me," the judge replied. "I remember because … I didn't think any girl her age would be interested in me."

Judge Brandin was not classically handsome, but he was not unattractive, even to Steve's heterosexual eye. Brandin had fine-chiseled features – a high cheekbone, lantern jaw, and deep-set blue eyes – and a full head of salt-and-pepper-colored hair. He had a look of distinction that would attract a young woman's attention. Either Brandin was selling himself short or doing a bad job of downplaying his initial meeting with Barbara Heiland. His hands started the tremble as he lifted the glass of lemonade and held it to his lips. Taking one long sip, he set the glass down again, with the same trembling hands. Steve wasn't going to wait for him to make up an explanation. He nodded to Danno.

"You'd better go and speak to Mrs. Brandin," he said. The judge's nerves got the better of him.

"No! Margaret had nothing to do with this!" he cried. "Leave her alone!" His blue eyes were covered in fear, like a wounded fawn being stalked by a ravenous cougar.

"We'll decide that," Steve said. "It's better we get both your statements at the same time so you two don't have time to compare notes and decide what to tell us."

"Steve, you are making a big mistake!" Brandin exclaimed. "Do you really think I would kill anyone? How long have you known me?" It upset Steve to recall his friendship with Brandin and what he was doing to him now, but he could not show leniency.

"If you're innocent, you have nothing to fear," was all the top cop could say.

Danno got up and went into the house, where he saw Margaret Brandin arranging some more flowers into a vase. They were the same kind of flowers as the ones in the yellow vase on the patio table, but the vase was painted in a creamy green glaze and was larger.

She looked startled when Danno approached, even though she knew he was there from having glanced up at him when he first entered the room.

"Oh, Danny," she said. "What I can do for you?" There was as much uneasiness in her voice as there was in her husband's. Margaret tried to plaster a smile on her face, but Danno saw through it. He returned the smile, though faintly, and sauntered over to her.

"How is everything?" she asked.

Danno knew from his freshmen psychology courses that it was best to let the other person start the conversation the way they wanted, making small talk if needed and then working into the crux of the situation. It was all to put the other party at ease, so the harder questions would not take them by surprise.

"It's going well," he said. He clenched a hand into a fist and wrapped the other hand around it.

"I saw what happened on the news, about that soldier and how he took you hostage … I was panicking …" She was sincere.

"Steve was scared to death," Danno replied.

"I hope that man got the help he needed," Margaret replied.

"He's back at Tripler, getting all the help he needs," Danno said. He picked up a red hibiscus and twirled it around. The swirling crimson plant looked almost hypnotizing. The red also reminded him of the blood he shed when Lance Corporal Auston shot him. Danno was filled with anger at first, but when he saw that Auston was ill and it was a result of his injuries in combat, he couldn't blame him. Auston was now in therapy to help him regain his sanity and put the war behind him. Thankfully for himself and others, the army was not sending him back into the warzone. Mrs. Brandin viewed Danno like a nephew, always caring about him and when she asked how he was doing, she meant it, even if it was to make conversation. Back to the case, Danno thought as he put the hibiscus into the vase.

"How well did you know Barbara Heiland?" he asked.

"She was just a girl who modeled clothes for some charity fashion shows I helped organize," Margaret answered. "I didn't know her at all."

"How many fashion shows did she work on that you organized?" Danno asked.

"About three or four," Margaret replied. She stopped her flower arranging to look Danno in the eye. "What exactly happened?"

Danno wasted no time. "Barbara Heiland was found dead in her apartment this morning. She was murdered." Margaret dropped the remaining flowers she was holding. They landed on the tabletop with a thwack.

"Murdered?" she repeated. "How?"

He didn't want to reveal too much information since she and her husband were suspects, but the evidence was too damaging to ignore. Danno replied, "She was stabbed several times. A ring with your initials was found on the floor in her bedroom." Danno took the plastic bag out of his pocket and held it to the light so she could see it. He turned the ring so the inside with the initials MAB were visible. Maragaret Brandin reached for it, gently turning the ring inside the plastic so she could examine it without damaging any forensic evidence that might be on it.

"Yes, yes … it is … it's my ring!" she shouted. Her face turned white. "How did it get there? It was in my jewelry box!"

"When was the last time you wore it?" Danno asked.

"I can't remember exactly … It was last month, I think. I wore it to a dinner party. It was tarnished a little, so I took it home and cleaned it. I put it away after that. I didn't think anything of it …"

He held off on asking about the pink button. Che was still examining it. "Who else has access to your jewelry box?" he asked.

"The maid. She cleans in here every other day. That's all. We have a cook as well, but she doesn't come up here. She works out of the kitchen and sometimes goes into the pantry and basement, but that's all." She tugged at the collar of her floral blouse. The heat was on. Danno was getting somewhere, but would Margaret Brandin brake?

"I'm going to have to speak to them as well," he replied. "Are they in?" Margaret gathered the flowers and scraped at their stems with her fingernails.

"Yes. The maid is doing the laundry downstairs and the cook is in the kitchen." Margaret pointed to the doorway.

They could wait. There was more Danno wanted to know. "Where were you last night?"

"At home, going over some notes from a court case I was in yesterday." Margaret picked up a pair of gardening shears, made slanted snips at the bottom of two white pikake, and placed them in the vase. She did it with little effort, her expertise with the shears making Danno wonder if she showed that same expertise with a knife.

"Was anyone with you?" he asked.

"No, but I was on the phone with my law clerk for a while. I called him at around eighth-thirty. We were on the phone for one hour."

"What's his name?" Danno asked, taking out a small notepad.

"Richard Schulman," came Margaret's reply. "He's a junior partner in my firm …"

 **III**

"… and Sheila Vansaun's fiancée," Steve McGarrett added as he put the key in the ignition and they drove away from the Brandin home.

"It all connects, but if we check with the phone company and she did indeed make a call at that time, she's in the clear," Danno replied. "The maid and cook live in, and they vouch for both Judge and Mrs. Brandin being home all night."

"We don't know Barbara's time of death for certain," Steve began. "Doc said her liver temperature was eighty degrees, putting her time of death at eight o'clock at the earliest. Since Schulman connects both Margaret and Sheila, he's got to be involved somehow. He would easily vouch for her, but that doesn't take her off the suspect list."

"Unless she got someone else – maybe the maid or cook – to make the call and stay on the line with Schulman, but they would have to be very loyal or doing it under duress, and it still takes us back to Margaret and also Schulman being involved."

"Let's pay a visit to Schulman this afternoon." Steve made a right, past another line of stately homes that could only belong to the city's elite, where some children were riding their bikes and laughing loudly. They recognized Steve and Danno and gave them a salute as they slowed the Park Lane down.

"Hey, kids," Steve said as he rolled down the window. "What's going on?"

"Looking for the bad guys like you two!" a mop-haired boy on a green Schwinn called out. He made a big Hawaiian smile and gave them the shaka sign.

"Keep at it! Hawaii needs you," Steve said. The children burst into laughter. Danno chortled.


	3. Chapter 3

**I**

Barbara Heiland lay on the slab with her feet protruding out from under a white sheet. A tag dangled from her big toe with her name – last name then first – and a number written on it. It was a grim finale for the vibrant beauty, but her time ended before that beauty withered away. She would be remembered as the model with the raven hair in the aubergine dress, and her death would grant her fame, albeit the wrong kind.

"Time of death is estimated at between eight and ten pm," Doc Bergman, the county coroner, said, adjusting his reading glasses as he read the autopsy report to Steve. "That leaves one hour after Mrs. Brandin's phone call ended when she could have gone over to that apartment and killed her."

"Given the distance from her house to the apartment building and amount of traffic in that area at that hour, it's a stretch," Steve replied. "But we still haven't determined if she really made that call and was on the phone in her house from eight to nine."

"I can tell you this much, Steve," Bergman lifted his glasses so they lay on top of his head. "It was a crime of passion. There were a total of eight stab wounds – three to the chest, one to the throat, two on her right arm, and one to her stomach. The first two stab wounds to her chest were enough to kill her. The cause of death was exsanguination. She may have lived for at least two hours after being stabbed, when the last of her organs shut down." It was a grim picture to imagine, one that Doc was used to describing and Steve was used to hearing, but it still didn't diminish its grisliness.

"Whoever did this was angry. They came into that apartment wanting to carve her up," Doc added.

"And they brought their own knife," Steve said. "We didn't find the murder weapon anywhere in that apartment and the girl who identified her said no knives were missing. It may have been spurred on by anger, but it was planned anger, Doc – anger that was building up inside the killer long enough to explode and turn them into a butcher. Is there more?"

"There was blood and tissue under her fingernails, indicating she scratched her attacker. I sent it to Che. Look for someone with scratch marks on them."

"That may eliminate our two prime suspects already," Steve replied as he recalled first seeing the Brandins that morning. "Neither of the Brandins had visible scratch marks on their faces or throats, and didn't act like they were in pain from any scratches on their bodies." It was one thing to question them. Asking them to submit to an examination to see if they were scratched was another.

Doc waved his hand. "Don't rule them out so quickly," he warned. "One or both of them had at least fourteen hours to recover from those scratches before you got to them. It's amazing what some ointment cream can do in that time."

"I'll keep it in mind." Steve was no more reassured by Doc's statement than he was before. They had a suspect whose alibi might clear her, another suspect who is married to the previously-mentioned one and was refusing to cooperate, and a possible third, whose alibi ties in with the first. Maybe Steve was jumping to conclusions and getting impatient, but with a girl lying dead on a mortuary slab with eight knife wounds in her, he had good reason to be impatient. "What else did you find?"

Doc wrinkled his nose. "I found some bruising on the right side of her face, indicating that someone who is left-handed hit her, possibly to incapacitate her so it would be easier to stab her."

"Both the Brandins are right-handed," Steve was thinking out.

"That means you got to widen your suspect pool …" Doc took off his reading glasses. "Why zero in on the Brandins so much? I thought they were friends of yours."

"They are, but I have to cover all angles, Doc. I can't let anyone think I'm going easy on them because they are my friends."

"You can't go too easy on them, Steve, but you can't go too hard on them, either. Going too far to either side is dangerous."

Steve sighed. "I don't see any side that is safe."

 **II**

Richard Schulman had a polished voice which sounded like it came from a New England prep school, and the physical appearance to match. His hair was smooth and sandalwood-colored, slicked back by pomade. His eyes were a piercing blue, and his alabaster skin had not spent one moment in the Hawaiian sun. _A real blueblood,_ Steve thought. Schulman's were neatly manicured and his suit, tie, and shoes all looked like they came from an expensive men's store rather than the bargain basement out of which Steve and Danno shopped. The tie was light blue and silk, on which gray paisleys were embroidered. His shirt was a matching light blue, and his suit was a finely-tailored charcoal gray whose pants ended just above his shiny black leather Oxfords. That attention to detail could transcend to other aspects of Schulman's life and environment. He's astute and notices the fine details.

"I only knew Barbara through Sheila," he asserted. "I saw her at the apartment a few times, but we only said, 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' … that sort of thing. I never knew her at all." He tapped a fresh cigarette against a silver tin, but didn't light it. Danno recognized the crown in between two leaves printed on the cigarette as Tareyton's logo.

Schulman's mannerisms were grating on Steve's nerves. He smelled the phoniness a mile away, but the young lawyer was not dropping any pretense. Schulman's gold cufflinks glinted in the light from the ceiling, making the two detectives notice them for the first time. _Were they a gift from Sheila?_ Steve could tell they were expensive and on a secretary's or junior lawyer's salary, a large expenditure.

"Did Sheila ever talk about Barbara?" Danno asked.

"Not that I recall," Schulman replied. He pushed the cigarette around on the silver tin's surface. "I never asked her about the people she associated with. I wasn't interested in them, and she never mentioned them to me."

"Where were you last night, from between eight pm and ten pm?" Steve asked.

"I was at home, going over a case with Mrs. Brandin – we were talking on the phone for at least an hour …" he put the cigarette down and laced his manicured fingers together. "It was a case about a royalty dispute that we're currently litigating."

Steve knew that would be his answer. Either it was the truth or the Brandins got to Schulman after they left their house. Steve got up, which gave Danno the cue to rise.

"We'll be in touch." Steve handed him his business card. "If you remember anything, give us a call." Schulman accepted the card casually, looked at it for minute, then put it in his pocket.

"I'll help in any way I can," he replied. "I know that Sheila and Barbara were friends. Sheila did say they knew each other for several years. She is devastated, to say the least, so I hope you catch the monster that did this."

"Thank you. We'll be in touch," Steve said as he and Danno exited.

Outside, Steve acted like he was breathing clean air for the first time. Danno knew what it meant – his boss smelled a rat.

"I never saw anything this phony since that counterfeit art ring we busted last month," Steve told his partner. "The only things that are real about him were his clothes and the cufflinks. The cufflinks alone must have set him back a couple of hundred dollars."

"And on a junior partner's salary," Danno asked. "Maybe he's got some business on the side."

"And I bet it's not legal," Steve added. "Maybe he's got blackmail or something black market going on. Have Nishimura check his background, as well as Sheila Vansaun's. I have a feeling those two are also mixed up in this. His corroborating Margaret Brandin's alibi is too convenient."

Steve slammed the door on the Park Lane as he and Danno got in.

 **III**

Sheila Vansaun tried to keep focused as she walked down the corner to wait for the bus. The people around her went about their business, hurrying by her to catch the same bus or cross the street before the light changed colors. She clutched at her handbag and looked to either side. She made it to the bus stop just as the bus parked in front. She got on, paid the fare, and found a seat in the back. The bus was not that crowded, and she hoped it didn't pick up too many more passengers on the way back to Honolulu. Her boss told her she could take the entire day off, when she called to tell him about Barbara, and she decide to take advantage of it. When she reached her stop, she got off in front of a row of houses hidden behind long front yards and clumps of trees. She walked down the driveway that led to one house in particular. An open window displayed a TV, with the channel tuned to a network that was showing an old western movie. The sounds of gunshots and horses whinnying could be heard outside. Despite that, the occupant still heard the doorbell when Sheila pressed it. The gunshots and whinnying softened to the point where they were no longer heard, and the door opened.

"Come on in," the man said. Sheila stepped inside the modernly-furnished living room. "Sit down anywhere you like."

She sat on the yellow couch that was positioned opposite the window. "I was lucky," she said. "Mr. Palmer gave me the day off. I was able to get so much done today."

"Did the police suspect anything?" the man asked, handing her a drink. Sheila took a sip.

"Not a thing, Ethan," she replied. "They bought the upset friend act – hook, line, and sinker."

"You'll need to keep playing it till we get what we want," Ethan reminded her. "You'll need to put on that act for Palmer when you go back to work. He may let his guard down, and we can get into his office and into that safe."

"Why can't we do with him what we were doing with the judge?" Sheila asked.

"You saw where it got Barbara. Do you want to die, too?" Ethan's green eyes glared at Sheila as he sat next to her. The softness in them told her he was speaking out of apprehension than malice.

"Barbara got too confident for her own good," Sheila derided. "I could easily get Palmer in the same position – and know when to stop."

"It's too risky." Ethan shook his head. "Judge Brandin is too volatile right now. He might break and expose our whole operation. We have to keep an eye on him. Playing the same game with Palmer would be foolish. We'll do it the traditional way – breaking and entering."

He clinked his glass to hers.

"Suit yourself," Sheila replied. "As long as no one else has to die." She looked into Ethan's face – not just his eyes, but the entirety of it, from his hairline down to his lantern jaw. The gray-blue eyes told her nothing, but the lines in his forehead and around his mouth told her of much despair, turmoil, and trauma. It was not easy being a spy, especially when one had been dormant for so long, just waiting for his chance to spring into action, but when the phone call came and the all the meetings were done, he had to step into the spy's shoes as though his last assignment was only yesterday.

Ethan coughed to settle his throat. "You know full-well that in this business, life is not always guaranteed – but death is." He pushed a tuft of Sheila's blonde hair aside from her forehead and looked into her tired and timorous eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**I**

The report on the pink button was as Steve expected. There were no fingerprints on it except for Barbara Heiland's thumb print, indicating she pulled it off her attacker during the struggle. It was manufactured by a company on the mainland, Che noted, and sold to several clothing manufacturers. Che got a list of seven companies that use that kind of button for women and girls' clothing, dolls' dresses, stuffed animals, pillow cases, and handicrafts. The buttons are also sold in packets to discount stores like Woolworth's, arts and crafts stores, and fabric stores. All thirteen Woolworth stores in Hawaii sell that button, and clothing made by two of the companies who bought it from the manufacturer are sold in two department store chains in Hawaii, one of each in Honolulu.

"That narrows it down considerably, Che," Steve said, leaning against a counter and resting his chin on his fist. "I don't suppose you can narrow it further?"

Che smiled that enthusiastic smile reserved for when he came up with the specific answers for which Steve was looking. "I certainly can," he replied. "The May Company sells two types of dresses made with that pink button, and Liberty House sells three different types from the Mat Company ones …" he showed Steve the pictures that the stores sent over.

One dress was a sleeveless, knee-length sheath in salmon pink, where the buttons were ornamental, three on each shoulder. The second dress was a long-sleeved in baby pink chiffon with a v-neck. The bodice and skirt were pleated, and the buttons ran from the point of the v-neck to the waist. There were four buttons in all. Of the three dresses from Liberty House, one was a magenta cotton skirt suit where the buttons were on the jacket, the second was a long-sleeved pink tweed sheath with buttons extending from the collar to the hem, and the third was a baby pink jersey shirt dress with three buttons lining the length from the collar to the waist. The stores even provided a list of purchases for all these dresses by credit and debit card. Cash transactions would be untraceable.

"It's all yours now, Steve," Che said. "The killer might be whoever bought one of those dresses."

Steve smiled. "Are you sure you're not Irish, Che?" he asked.

"Not a chance," Che laughed, "And that's no blarney!"

 **II**

The Pogue Manufacturing Company stood on a block of nondescript, box-shaped buildings off the Kamehameha Highway in Pearl City. It stood on an open space sectioned off from the road by a long wire fence, with coiled barbed wire lining the top to keep intruders from climbing over. It looked like a maximum security prison to anyone who didn't know it was a factory for military equipment.

It was not the kind of place where Sheila Vansaun wanted to spend her entire life, but it paid her bills for the time being. Benjamin Palmer was a stereotypical businessman – a middle-aged male with thinning chestnut hair and a matching mustache. His eyes were gray and deep set, appearing as thin slits from far away, peering out from a triangular face covered in pale skin. He stood around five-foot-eight and his slight frame was clad in a dusky brown suit and dark blue tie. He didn't appeal to young Sheila at all, but that didn't stop Palmer was trying to make his advances on her. She was always able to fend him off, but she wondered how long she would succeed, since he could easily use his authority to take advantage. That he hadn't done so indicated he was hoping for Sheila to accept his affection on her own.

Palmer positioned himself on the corner of her desk, parking his posterior on the desktop and turning his upper body around to where his shadow cast over the typewriter. Sheila looked up from her typing, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Is there something you need?" asked.

"No, nothing at all," Palmer replied. "I was wondering if you would like to do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight. I thought … what happened to Barbara … you might not want to be alone."

Sheila was about to revert to habit and tell him, "No," but remembered what Ethan said yesterday: _"You'll need to put on that act for Palmer when you go back to work. He may let his guard down, and we can get into his office and into that safe."_

She breathed in, and let out heavy exhale. "Okay, Mr. Palmer. Tonight, but I have a lot of work to finish right now."

Palmer smiled delightedly. "Wonderful!" He rubbed his palms together. "We'll leave at six." He hopped off the desk. "See you then." He turned to go back into his office. Sheila turned away before he could say more and went back to her typing.

 **III**

Jayna Berringer held out the list of credit and debit card purchases to Steve.

"A baby pink chiffon was purchased by Margaret Brandin at the May Company two months ago," she read aloud, "and a pink tweed sheath was purchased at Macy's six months ago by Sheila Vansaun."

Steve's mouth wrinkled at the corners. "I'm not surprised, but it gives us a reason to get a search warrant for the Brandins' house and for Sheila's apartment." Steve leaned in and smiled at his young assistant. "Good job, honey."

"Anytime, Steve," Jayna replied.

Jayna shrugged. "I heard stories about the Brandins, some not so nice."

"Do tell." Steve was all ears. He didn't normally listen to gossip but he made exceptions when it came to suspects in a crime because within the layers of gossip, some facts might be found.

"Judge Brandin had a thing for women. He didn't go from one mistress to the other. There were several at once." Jayna's peach-painted fingernails tapped against the armrest of the white leather chair on which she sat. "He got nervous when you questioned him, not only because he knew Barbara Heiland, but because he was afraid you'd find out about all of them."

"How do you know this?" Steve asked, incredulously. He wasn't just asking out of curiosity. The accusations Jayna made were almost slanderous and he knew she would not make them unless she had proof.

"I know one of those girls," was Jayna's blunt answer. "You remember my friend Dorothy Blake?"

"You went to school with her at Manoa," Steve acknowledged. "She was a legal secretary for a while – for Margaret Brandin."

"That's it – for a while – till she had to leave town for undisclosed reasons, but I knew what it was all about … Brandin got her pregnant and she went to have an abortion …" Jayna stopped when she saw the shocked look on Steve's face. She didn't mean to alarm him with such a scandalous story – especially when he had no idea what she was going to say, but there was no other way to phrase it.

"When did all this happen?" Steve asked, his voice softening.

"Four years ago," Jayna replied. "Dorothy was working for Margaret. She met Judge Brandin at one of their parties and she started seeing him afterwards. A few months into the relationship, she finds out she's pregnant and came to me."

Steve kept his true feelings bottled up. The topic of abortion was a touchy one for Steve, given how he was raised and the staunch Catholicism that his parents followed and tried to pass onto him. Tried was the key word. He was not very religious, but abortion was not something he could grapple. He still had mixed feelings about it, given the previous case on which he and Jayna and worked and what he found out about her past, but he forgave her and was willing to move on, and hoped those memories would not get dredged up again.

As though she sensed what he was thinking, Jayna said, "She couldn't keep the child, and carrying it to term would have been too much for her, Steve. I took her to Dr. Chang …"

Steve closed his eyes, swallowed, and opened his eyes again, nodding. "I understand, honey. It's all right … go on."

"Dr. Chang took care of everything, and Dorothy went back to work for Margaret Brandin, but not for long …" Jayna started to scrape the undersides of her fingernails. "She got a job as a secretary for a publisher and never looked back. She hasn't talked about Brandin all these years."

"Did he know about the pregnancy?" Steve asked.

Jayna shook her head. "Dorothy said she never told him. She was afraid he'd …" Jayna's eyes took on a look of fear, "… kill her."

Steve was stunned. He knew Brandin was a powerful man, but powerful enough to have a girl killed just because she was having his baby? "Would he really have done that?" he asked

"I don't know, but we knew how powerful he was, and it was a possibility. Dorothy didn't want to take any chances, and she didn't want the child to begin with. There was no question she was going to get rid of it, so I took her to Dr. Chang … Steve …" Jayna put her hand on this. "It was the only way … it was illegal back then and it still is but we had no other choice. You can't throw us in jail for that …"

"No, I can't, Jayna, but if it ever got out that you helped anyone get an abortion, it'll be damaging for us all, so try to keep it confidential," Steve replied, keeping his distress in check.

"This won't come out in the investigation, Steve. I promise," Jayna assured him. "It was four years ago. Dorothy's moved on but there may be other girls. Maybe Barbara knew and was holding it over Brandin, somehow."

Steve pondered Jayna's theory for a moment. His dark ocean blue eyes were composed, lost in thought. Jayna knew not to interrupt him.

"We can't ignore any angle, so go ahead," he allowed, "but be careful. If Dr. Chang was helping to cover up for Judge Brandin's indiscretions, he might also be on the hit list."

"Dorothy would be the place so start," Jayna said. "She'll talk if I ask her, but I want to come along, if that's all right with you."

Steve's eyes softened. Though Jayna was an officer and he treated her with the same professionalism he did his male counterparts, he couldn't help but feel differently towards her at times. Like a doting father, he would indulge Jayna in investigating her theories, no matter how far-fetched they sounded, and he often never regretted it.

 **IV**

"Judge Brandin was just so charming, so gentlemanly," Dorothy Blake said as she handed a cup of coffee to Steve. Jayna dropped a sugar cube from a blue china bowl into her cup and stirred it with a tiny spoon. They were sitting in Dorothy's living room – her on a rocking chair with a dark blue velvet cushion and Steve and Jayna on a large, stuffed sofa across from her.

Dorothy's golden brown hair looked like rivers of velvet falling over her shoulders. She had green eyes that looked like drops of jade amidst an alabaster heart of a face. Steve was easily captivated by her on first sight, but then remembered he was a cop and got down to business.

"How long did this affair go on?" Steve asked.

"Only four months," Dorothy replied. "I ended it after I had the … operation. I didn't want things to get worse. I told the judge it wasn't right for us to keep seeing each other. It could jeopardize my job. I didn't think it would go as far as it did." She took another sip of coffee.

"What the judge say when you told him you wanted to end it?" Jayna asked.

Dorothy thought for a moment, twirling a golden brown strand of hair. "He was upset. 'I want to keep seeing you,' he told me. 'You can't just throw it all away.' I was thinking of telling him about the baby then, but I would have had to admit to getting rid of it, and then who knew where that would lead, so I told him it would not work out. He was still married and was not going to leave his wife, and I had my future to think of, so he agreed to end it. That was the last I saw of him. I continued working for Mrs. Brandin, then left as soon as I got a new job."

"Did Mrs. Brandin suspect anything?" Steve asked.

Dorothy shook her head slowly. "Not that I know of. She was always so friendly to me, and it didn't look like she was suspicious."

"Do you know if there were other girls?" Steve asked, setting down his cup and saucer. "Judge Brandin supposedly had many girlfriends. Did he ever mention any to you or did know of any?"

Dorothy hesitated for a moment, then said, "I heard there were other girls – another girl at the law firm … a receptionist I know. Her name was Laura. Other than that, I don't know who they are."

"Where were you on Tuesday night?" Jayna asked.

"Right here." Dorothy gestured to her surroundings. "The landlord came by to fix the kitchen sink. He was here from seven-thirty till sometime after nine."

"Do you own a pink dress?" Jayna asked.

Dorothy made a face. "Jayna, you know I hate pink!"

 **V**

The little brown sports car zoomed down the highway as fast as the speed limit allowed. Ethan Kline looked in the rearview mirror as was his habit. He could never be sure he wasn't being followed. He got off the highway and made it all the way to the Brandins' home. He didn't dare hang around that neighborhood too long, lest one of the neighbors see his car and get the license number down and report a suspicious car in the area to the police. He had to go in, do his job, and get out. They would not be home, he knew from his contacts watching them for the past month. How they were able to come and go unnoticed, Ethan did not know, but they as long they got the information he needed, he didn't question their methods.

There was a road that led to the back of the house, with enough room to park the car. He was able to get over the fence easily. The maid and cook were also not home, and he made it to the back door without stopping. A piece of celluloid pried open the back door with ease and Ethan remembered the floor plan of the house, so he knew exactly where Judge Brandin's workroom was located. There was a safe. Carefully turning the dial, he opened the door, and stared at the all the papers and ledgers inside. The green leather-bound notebook was what he wanted. He photographed the contents with a spy camera, then put the notebook back inside and closed the safe door. He made it out the back door and over the fence and drove away.

 **VI**

The search warrant was issued and Steve and Jayna went to the Brandin's home to execute it. It was already evening and Margaret had just gotten back. The judge was at a lodge meeting and would not be back until late. Margaret was unnerved at seeing the search warrant, but knew it was better to cooperate. She led them to her bedroom and opened the closet door. There was a wide array of dresses and skirt suits. A pink sleeveless chiffon dress hung smashed in between several others. Jayna spotted it from the color and gently pulled it out. Examining it, she showed it to Steve, who nodded.

"When was the last time you wore this dress, Margaret?" Steve asked.

"Last month, at a luncheon for Honolulu Women's Club," she answered, still confused. "What is this all about?"

"Did you loan this dress to anyone else since then?" Steve asked.

"No," Margaret replied.

"Was it dry cleaned recently?" Jayna asked.

"Yes, but that was two months ago," Margaret answered.

Steve pointed to the bodice. "We found a pink button in the victim's hand," he said, "and we identified the type of button. That button was used on certain dresses sold at the May Company and Liberty House. Where did you buy this dress?"

"At the May Company," Margaret replied, tiredly.

"One of the pink buttons is missing," Jayna said. She pointed the spot on the bodice, right at the point of the v-neck, where a pink button used to be, but where the ripped rosy pink threads that once held it in place remained.


End file.
